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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371759">The Rubble of our Tomb</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovableKillerWhale/pseuds/LovableKillerWhale'>LovableKillerWhale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Peter Parker, Bombs, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Steve Rogers, Includes other Avengers in minor roles, Missions Gone Wrong, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Alternating, POV Peter Parker, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Relationship, Protective Sam Wilson, Protective Steve Rogers, Rescue, Sam comes in in chapter 2, Team Dynamics, Texting, Trapped, actually you don't have to squint at all, samsteve if u squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:40:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovableKillerWhale/pseuds/LovableKillerWhale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An Avengers battle goes terribly wrong and Spider-man ends up stuck in a collapsing building with Captain America. Nothing brings people closer together than explosions, blood loss and a healthy dose of self-sacrifice, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers &amp; Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>252</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Crumbling Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is already finished and the second (and final) part will be up soon!</p><p>Fun fact, this fic was solely inspired by a post on tumblr that went like "i love it when big dogs are picked up and they just can't comprehend how such a thing could happen to them" along with a photo of a yellow-ish dog in that exact situation and someone replied with "this is peter parker and steve rogers". I couldn't get that mental image out of my head. Thank you, tumblr.</p><p>Timeline wise, this is probably some time after Age of Ultron, and Civil War either got resolved pretty early on or it just didn't happen. </p><p>Nothing too graphic happens, about the same amount of violence as in the movies. Includes tight spaces, some broken bones, vomitting, and something akin to a small anxiety attack.</p><p>Hope you enjoy this fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mission should have been easy enough. The Avengers had been called to assemble when Black Widow strode up to the Compound after a week of her own solo assignment and slapped a file in front of them.</p><p>It had to do with the stray Chitauri weapons that seemed to never stop popping up. Every time they thought they had busted the illegal market for good, another exchange came up on their radar. They had confiscated so many weapons that the government had trouble disposing of them (at least they <em> hoped </em> the alien weaponry was being disposed of… but they could never be sure).</p><p>This week's arms trafficker, one Daniel Leighton, went by the name Cutthroat. In addition to being convicted in the past for assault, he was now the leader of a small gang of his own. Apparently he was good at keeping a low profile, because Natasha stumbled upon the files by sheer coincidence. According to the document, they were only gathering the weapons and selling them, as they didn't have the numbers to actually attempt a large scale attack on an institution, or perhaps a rival gang. Or so they thought.</p><p>The Avengers had good numbers, too - only missing Bruce, Thor, and Rhodey. Some of the heavy hitters, but the task at hand didn't require such brute force. It was only a warehouse in the docks (housing shipments of the alien weapons) and an administrative building from across the street (containing all the documentation of the gang's activities).</p><p>Simple, really. Almost too easy.</p><p>They should have known all hell would break loose right from the very beginning.</p><p>As the team approached their target in smaller groups, both on the ground and in the air, they didn't have time to clear the area of civilians. Not when Leighton's men open fired on the first team, way before the heroes would attempt to incite conflict.</p><p>People panicked. Blue flashes of light crossed the street in all directions. Vision was shot, the reinforced bullet not being a match for the vibranium that made up his body, but it let off some sort of charge that exploded upon contact and blew up a nearby shop window.</p><p>The air support - Sam, Tony and Vision - got busy with the laser beams that almost took out the Iron Man armour. Spider-Man was around somewhere, strictly instructed to only join in occasionally. On the ground, Steve, Natasha, Clint and Wanda had their own problems to deal with.</p><p>Their number one priority was crowd control. Then, take out the big guns. They managed to push back and secure the door to the docks - Natasha and Clint took it upon themselves to sweep the place for hostiles. </p><p>It fell to the rest of them to get everyone out of there and to secure the administrative building strangely devoid of any activity.</p><p>"Falcon, you read me? I need to search the building and secure the perimeter," Steve asked through the comms, ducking behind a shipment crate to avoid (normal) gunfire. He was guarding the warehouse doors so that no one would sneak upon the two assassins clearing the place, as well as to have access to wherever he was needed next. The unceasing firing forced him to retreat a few paces within the warehouse.</p><p>"A bit busy at the moment, Cap," came Sam's loud reply, accompanied by static that Steve presumed had to do with the high velocity of Sam's flight. So that was a no go.</p><p>"Alright, I'll see if I can get someone else," Steve said and racked his brain for who might be a viable option.</p><p>"Scarlet Witch?" he tried, hiding a smile from his voice despite the dire situation. He felt a bit silly calling Wanda by that code name, but it was the one she had chosen for herself. Although, Steve with his moniker of 'Captain America' had no right to judge.</p><p>"I'm on the right side by the roadblock, Captain. Civilians in the crossfire, I have to shield them. No casualties so far, it appears we can hold the line here."</p><p>"Right. Keep that going. Vision?"</p><p>"I am assisting Wanda."</p><p>"Stark?"</p><p>"Uh. Blowing stuff up."</p><p>As if on cue, something above the warehouse exploded in a ball of blue fire, far enough from the main street.</p><p>The tide was steadily turning. Good.</p><p>"Alright, then I'll secure the doors in the meantime. Report when one of you can assist me."</p><p>The rapid gunfire that rang against the side of the metal crate didn't stop for a moment. Steve mentally counted the angle in his head and threw his shield off to the side, where it bounced off of another container and sailed out of his field of vision.</p><p>The yell of surprise and a loud clutter confirmed that the gunman had been hit. Steve leaped up and over the container with ease, ready to retrieve his shield and deal with the attacker properly. The fallen man was reaching for his gun, and Steve intended to get to him before he could grab it.</p><p>But before he reached him, something white shot out from outside and enveloped the man's hand inches away from the gun. His other hand and both legs followed, and within a fraction of a second, the man was effectively pinned against the ground by bursts of webs.</p><p>Steve looked around for the source, and sure enough, hanging upside down in the tall door frame and landing right beside him was Spider-man. He didn't stagger as he landed, but he was clearly hopping from foot to foot in excitement. Steve kicked up his shield with his foot and it bounced right into his grip.</p><p>"Thanks for the assist, Queens," Steve told him, and if a bit unsure, raised his shield-free hand and curled it into a fist.</p><p>"You're welcome!" Spider-man eagerly replied, and bumped his own fist against Steve's.</p><p>"Wow, I just fist bumped Captain America," he said in awe, and the white eyes on his red mask widened.</p><p>"Glad to know I did that correctly," Steve said with a smile. Natasha and Sam were teaching him a lot of the modern lingo (Clint didn't count because half the time, he tried to mess with him. For one, he told Steve that the middle finger meant the same thing as a thumbs up, to which Steve laughed and flipped him off. He wasn't from the Stone Age.)</p><p>"So, what's up, Brooklyn?" Spider-man piped up as Steve walked over the restrained enemy and moved towards his target a couple of yards away. He liked the nicknames they came up with for each other. A part of the agreement was that as long as Spider-man didn't feel comfortable with revealing his true identity to the team, he didn't have to. Only Tony knew. But in turn, he wasn't allowed to participate in the battles directly, because teams were built on trust. There was also the issue of Spider-man's age. He was still a teen. He was placed on the team for his own protection and betterment at super-heroing. As the team leader, Steve had more than a couple of qualms regarding the arrangement, and he felt responsible for the young man's well being. </p><p>Still felt better to know him as Queens than Spider-man, and after their initial clash at the airport in Leipzig, they hit it off pretty well.</p><p>"Barton and Romanoff are sweeping the warehouse for the alien weapons, and someone needs to secure the building across from here, that's where all the paperwork ought to be. Dealerships, contracts, receipts, that sort of thing," Steve explained. "Nothing exciting," he added, because the younger superhero seemed to perk up at his words.</p><p>"So you think it would be safer than searching the warehouse?"</p><p>"There are definitely fewer places to be sneaked upon, and there hasn't been any activity in there since the start of the fight. Why?" Steve asked, already knowing the answer.</p><p>"I can come with you," Spider-man pleaded.</p><p>"Absolutely not."</p><p>"Please! I'll be useful! My spider sense will even warn us of danger," the boy continued, hopping along to match Steve's stride.</p><p>"That would be irresponsible of me," Steve was stalwart with his stance. "You're a kid and we had an agreement about your involvement in the Avengers' battles."</p><p>"Watch from afar, web from afar, keep my distance, I know!" Spider-man listed off on his fingers and threw up his arms in exasperation. "But right now, I'm your best shot, and don't deny it."</p><p>They made it in front of the three story building with no incident. Steve stopped in front of the entrance, Spider-man almost crashing into him.</p><p>"You're right. But that just means I'll have to wait for someone else. Go help with the crowd."</p><p>Then he said to the comms: "Coming into the building. Will report progress, Captain out."</p><p>There was not a single response from any of his teammates, much to Steve's frustration (they talked about this!). To fuel his bad mood further, Spider-man wasn't deterred. In fact, he seemed even more adamant.</p><p>"You'll be my favourite Avenger. No, my favourite super hero. Favourite historical figure? Just please let me come with you, Brooklyn."</p><p>Spider-man looked ready to rip off his own mask and make puppy eyes at Steve. They were losing time and he had to get to the documents before someone could wipe the computers or shred the evidence. No one came through the comms either. With a hiss through gritted teeth Steve caved in.</p><p>"Fine. But you'll stay right by my side. And if anything goes wrong, I'll bench you for a month."</p><p>"You're not my mom, you can't ground me," Spider-man complained, but Steve could feel his excitement practically double.</p><p>"I'm your team leader. I can and I <em> will </em> ground you from joining these battles if I have to," Steve threatened, fully intending to uphold it if the need arose. He felt like an exasperated teacher at a lecture.</p><p>"But Mr. Stark said-"</p><p>"I don't care what Tony said. I'm in charge here. You can still change your mind."</p><p>The boy remained stubbornly silent, and Steve chuckled to himself. 'Queens' reminded him of himself sometimes. He readied his shield in front of him to barge through the door headfirst, Spider-man right behind him.</p><p>"Fine. Then by all means, let's do this."</p><p> </p><p>*   *   *</p><p> </p><p>Peter was practically vibrating with the thrill of it. He hoped it wasn't showing too much and did his best to contain himself. Finally, after being on the Avengers team for a few months, he'd get some real action.</p><p>Or it would be exactly as Captain America had said, all boring and empty. No bad guys to fight. There'd be more villains to defeat out in the street. But even if that were so, Peter liked the feeling of adrenaline he got when the two of them were soundlessly creeping through one of the corridors. </p><p>The noise of the battle outside receded to distant sounds and explosions. Thankfully, at least the docks themselves were now devoid of civilians as the Avengers did a good job at clearing the area. The police should be arriving soon, too.</p><p>The building was dark, only flickering lights providing them with some semblance of direction. Peter could see better in the dark than normal people, and he was pretty sure Captain Rogers was enhanced that way too.</p><p>The soldier insisted on Peter taking a backseat and even though he didn't like it, Peter obliged. He wasn't about to ruin the chance he had been given.</p><p>The first few rooms they came across were clear, but without anything of importance. For someone with normal human senses, the silence might have been overwhelming, but Peter heard the soft buzz of the lights and the lazy spinning of a ceiling fan, maybe a few rooms over. It stopped being fun when the noises started to make him feel uneasy and he grew serious.</p><p>His spider sense was silently humming and he wrote it off as stress from the environment.</p><p>Finally, the sixth door they came upon was locked. They quickly went ahead and checked the rest of the hallway, but it was all clear. Not a soul. They ended up returning to the locked door - that had to be it. They were lucky they came upon it so soon.</p><p>Much like with the front entrance, Captain Rogers kicked it in with relative ease, breaking the lock and wood alike. Peter was quick to catch the falling door with his webs before it could reach the ground and make even more noise.</p><p>"Save your webs," the Captain advised him, but didn't comment otherwise. Peter dutifully followed him inside, conveniently protected by the man's raised shield. Peter still remembered the thrill he felt he had taken the shield and got to hold it in his own two hands (...then Ant-man kicked his face in, but that was beside the point).</p><p>There was a computer, and the walls were lined with cabinets. Captain Rogers mumbled under his breath (something about 'being too old for this') and searched for something in his tactical belt.</p><p>"Guess you can help me after all, Queens," he said with a grin and chucked something small at Peter. He caught it in his right hand with his lightning fast reflexes. It was a black USB flash drive with a little Shield logo on it. Peter raised his eyebrows underneath his mask.</p><p>"You'll be leaving the tech stuff to me while you rummage through the cabinets?"</p><p>"I know exactly what to look for in these documents. Plus, we can't be all tech geniuses," Rogers shrugged and set out on his mission to demolish the cabinets. Peter decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.</p><p>"This is so cool," he said instead, and crouched to boot up the old computer. It angrily whirred to life, and it took a while before the screen turned on. A bar for a password appeared. That was expected, but Peter still didn't know what to do with it. He was good at guessing people's passwords (Mr. Stark made it all too easy with his Netflix account), but not THAT good.</p><p>"Uh, Captain Rogers? It requires a password."</p><p>"Try the USB, son. I'm told that Shield's good at all that decrypting stuff," Mr. Rogers replied from his spot by the door with a wink, leaning against the wall and skimming the files which were piling up on the ground.</p><p>"You worked for Shield," Peter noted as he stuck the flash drive into the port.</p><p>"That was the joke," the Captain replied a bit sheepishly and Peter decided to have mercy.</p><p>"Oh. Haha. I bet you'd be a terrific hacker if someone showed you the ropes," Peter offered and watched as the software did its magic.</p><p>"Don't tell anyone else," Mr. Rogers said from behind Peter conspiratorially, "but I'm actually fairly good at using technology now. It's just funnier to let them think otherwise."</p><p>"Wow. I'm not sure if that's genius or despicable," Peter said after he got over the initial shock. Who knew Captain America could be so devious?</p><p>"It's fun."</p><p>"Well, you don't have to worry, sir. Your secret's safe with me."</p><p>When he looked back at the computer, the password was decrypted and Peter entered the system. There weren't many files in there (and he forced himself to pointedly ignore the folders called "Illegal Music and Movies" and "location-of-bodies", for the time being). He started the copy on a bunch of them that seemed to contain scanned images of deals and contracts and he even checked the bin for recent files. He hit restore on those too and ended up setting everything to copy, just to be safe. Yes, even the pirated movies and music. Just in case. He didn't want to mess it up.</p><p>While Peter was making sure the flash drive was collecting the data, he could hear Mr. Rogers rifling through the cabinets and gathering files and paper evidence. They worked in companionable silence until a crackle in the comms startled them both.</p><p>Strangely enough, it seemed that only static made it through. Peter thought he could make out a flicker of a voice between the cracking.</p><p>The Captain proved him right when he pressed a finger to his ear and spoke to the person on the other side while hefting the files under arm: "Nat? I'm having trouble hearing you. Can you repeat that?"</p><p>The cracking slightly subsided, and Peter didn't know the reason why, but suddenly he felt his skin tingle all over, and he shuddered. Oh no.</p><p>"Found… Leighton," Black Widow spoke in a very insistent tone, but that was all Peter could make out. "Building… to blow. Get out… there… NOW!"</p><p>Before he even heard the last word, Peter's spider sense was going haywire and attacked him at full force, warning him of immediate great danger. </p><p>"Captain, we need to go!" he shouted, plucking out the USB despite the download not being finished and leaped to his feet. </p><p>Captain Rogers was already in the doorway, most of the files abandoned. He hesitated and waited for Peter to catch up. Peter wasted no time running into the narrow corridor and sprinting for the nearest exit. The soldier was right behind him.</p><p>They only just made it out of the room and into the hallway when Peter was jolted with his spider sense again, this time stronger than before.</p><p>The entire building shook with an enormous explosion. The sound of it clashed against Peter's ears and he involuntarily yelped. He felt every tremor and although he couldn't immediately see any fire, he knew the walls most likely wouldn't hold. They had seconds at maximum.</p><p>Cracks spread across the ceiling above Peter's head like spiderwebs, much faster than Peter could run. Once again his spider sense flared up, and he stopped dead in his tracks when he realized there was no outrunning the building's collapse.</p><p>"Queens, catch!" the Captain's voice yelled over the rumble of tumbling walls and Peter reflexively turned back just in time to catch the shield Mr. Rogers had thrown at him.</p><p>
  <em>CRACK!</em>
</p><p>Peter made a split second instinctual decision and raised the shield above his head to protect himself. He was about to overcome his fear and rejoin the Captain, who was more than a few paces away from him, but he never got to close the distance, because that was the moment everything above him shifted and came crashing down on him.</p><p>Rubble rained down like oversized hail and thundered against the shield like Thor's hammer. It was so loud that Peter wanted to clutch at his ears, but he could only hold on the straps of the shield with all of his strength even as his knees gave in. He braced himself and prayed for it to be over. </p><p>
  <em> This couldn't be happening. </em>
</p><p>There was dust in his lungs because he was coughing and gasping for air. It somehow must have gotten through his mask. Stray pieces of concrete brushed against his face and body before everything settled. He still held the shield up because a great force was pushing on it. It was threatening to crush him if he gave up resisting the weight of the debris, but he was alive and his heart was beating out of his chest with adrenaline and fear.</p><p>He told himself, <em> this is different. It's different from the building that had collapsed on me in my fight with the Vulture. </em></p><p><em> I got out that time, </em> he tried to convince himself and rasped in ragged breaths. His arms locked above his head were shaking, but held the weight. He could do it. He could free himself again.</p><p>Pushing his knees further into the dust covered floor and flexing his muscles, Peter managed to get up with a groan of effort. The huge piece of concrete that was pinning him in place slid off of the shield and to the side, and finally Peter could breathe a sigh of relief. It flooded his senses and he quietly laughed, rubbing moistness out of his eyes. </p><p>It looked like a bombsite alright. The dust was beginning to settle. The lights were out and mostly littered on the floor. The first story ceiling was practically nonexistent, it all piled around Peter, huge slabs of it somehow intact and and undoubtedly holding the entire weight of the upper story. The places where the ceiling completely broke down were either a still waterfall of concrete or jagged holes keeping shape only because of broken support beams blocking the wreckage from falling any further. The shield in Peter's hand was dirty, covered in pieces of plaster and dust.</p><p><em>Oh, May was gonna kill him.</em> Then Mr. Stark would kill him again. Then the Avengers would probably take turns killing Peter too, for good measure.</p><p>That was the moment Peter realised he was alone. Dread filled him once more.</p><p>His enhanced eyes skimmed over the rubble but he couldn't see a glimpse of red, white or blue anywhere. Only the grey of concrete and white dust floating in rare streams of light.</p><p>"Captain America? Mr. Rogers?!" he called out to the dark room and crouched down, backtracking to the place he had last seen him. The corridor completely changed its looks, everything was much smaller now, but Peter was pretty sure he remembered the layout. The way back and forward was blocked, but Peter had no trouble climbing over the debris. He tried not to think of the possibility that Cap could be buried right underneath his feet. And he'd never even know.</p><p>"Cap?" he tried again, his shaky voice carrying over the length of the corridor, the only sound to be heard besides the ringing in Peter's ears.</p><p>To make matters worse, the whole place violently shook again and Peter quickly held up the shield once more to protect himself. This time, the walls held fast, but the cracks were steadily spreading and he had the impression that the entire third and second stories were pressing against the first floor… It was only a matter of time before the whole place collapsed.</p><p>He tried to breathe evenly as he struggled not to succumb to panic. The comms were completely useless, probably somehow damaged in the explosion. He took them out to hear better.</p><p>"Captain? Mr. Rogers? Steve! If you can hear me, please respond!" Peter yelled in vain, trying hard not to start crying. This was bad. This was really bad.</p><p>Just as he was about to break down and start manually picking through the rubble (which would be like trying to find a needle in a very heavy haystack), a cough startled him.</p><p>"I'm here…"</p><p>It was the Captain's voice alright, coming from Peter's right. He rushed over, carefully walking by a part of the wall that completely collapsed and piled up on the floor. Hidden from Peter's previous angle, and pressed into the floor by a heap of concrete, belly down, was Captain Rogers.</p><p>"Oh thank God! Are you alright?" Peter demanded as he carefully picked his way through the demolished corridor. He then mentally slapped himself: of course he wasn't alright. What kind of question was that?!</p><p>"Are you?" was the choked, but stalwart reply.</p><p>"I'm not injured. Well, I have a bruise or two, but otherwise, I'm fine," Peter rambled on, crouching even further down to get a better look at his team leader. The majority of him was buried by the rubble - not good. The ceiling right above them was somehow intact - that was better. Only the Captain's upper torso was visible in the debris. There was blood streaming down his face from underneath his helmet and his fingers were raw and bloody as he most likely used his hands to protect himself from the onslaught.</p><p>Mr. Rogers almost absentmindedly nodded, then asked: "What… what happened?" </p><p>Peter sucked in a breath. This wasn't good at all. He wasn't an expert on injuries, but he had sustained his fair share in his Spidey career. He'd say the Captain had suffered a concussion - he couldn't be sure with the dark surroundings, but Peter thought the soldier's pupils appeared to be dilated.</p><p>"The- the building got blown up," Peter struggled to explain. "With us in it." He moved to start pulling the concrete off of the man. </p><p>"Don't try to talk, you're hurt!" he added when he saw the Captain soundlessly opening and closing his mouth.</p><p>"Not hurt, just stuck," he stammered after a while. That was a blatant lie. Blood was literally dripping down his face and onto the dusty floor. Even super-soldiers had their limits and Peter was afraid that the longer Captain Rogers stayed crushed, the bigger was the chance he would reach his.</p><p>"Okay, listen to me. I know I'm just a teen and all, but just listen, okay?"</p><p>There was no response. Peter took it as a cue to continue.</p><p>"My comms are out, and I don't think yours are much better. We're on our own here."</p><p>He started removing the rubble as he was speaking. Talking out loud, even if there was little dialogue to speak of, calmed Peter's nerves. He worked methodically to extricate the super-soldier and his hands were steadying. Good. He hoped the ceiling would hold.</p><p>"Think you can rush outside and get help?" the Captain panted from below Peter.</p><p>"No visible exits here, I don't think. Plus, I'm not leaving you. I… I don't know how long the walls will hold."</p><p>He set out to remove an especially big piece of concrete using his webs and pulled with all his might. It rolled right off. He wasn't careful enough and the huge chunk crashed into the nearest wall, where it broke into pieces and made the entire structure dangerously shudder. </p><p>
  <em>Uh-oh.</em>
</p><p>They both felt the tremor.</p><p>"We may not have much time left. Go, Spider-man. That's an order," Mr. Rogers commanded using his Captain America voice, but it was hoarse and pained. He was never meant to sound like that.</p><p>"With all d-due respect, I'm not leaving," Peter declared, his heart leaping out of his chest, and working faster. More plaster fell from the ceiling. Time was running out.</p><p>"What are you doing?" Mr. Rogers asked, looking up at him, only now realising Peter's efforts. Or perhaps he was so out of it that he was just confused about what Peter was doing.</p><p>"Removing the rubble."</p><p>In addition to the voice, Mr. Rogers twisted his neck and did his best disapproving face. His eyes even cleared a little. Typical.</p><p>"That could take ages and the whole building could collapse. Stop that."</p><p>"No. I can help you."</p><p>"You have to get out of here while you can."</p><p>"I'm staying."</p><p>"We could both die."</p><p>"A chance I'm willing to take."</p><p>The clipped conversation bounced back and forth, two stubborn heroes refusing to put their own well-being before the other's. But Peter would win this one. He had to. Even if it killed him.</p><p>Mr. Rogers seemed to realise that, or maybe it was the blood loss, but he chuckled.</p><p>"Alright, but if you die, I'll kill you myself."</p><p>The soldier fell silent after that. Peter tried not to think too much of it and continued with his work. He was starting to sweat underneath the suit, and he took increasingly laboured breaths. He figured he was about  halfway way there. He could do this.</p><p>He chucked another piece away, along with what must have been a broken ceiling lamp, and uncovered a literal boulder of the wrecked upper floor. He buried his fingers under the edge of it and pushed, but it didn't move by much. Peter huffed in despair and tried again, still to no avail. He even tried his webs but he didn't have enough space to step back and pull it elsewhere.</p><p>Then he noticed the glint of the Captain's shield he had propped against the remains of a broken coffee table, and his face lit up. </p><p>It was simple physics, really. He should have thought of it sooner. Peter picked up the shield and jammed it underneath the hunk of the wreckage and pushed on the edge that was sticking out. </p><p>Sure enough, with grunts of effort, the lever worked like a charm. He removed that heavy chunk and to his relief, under it were only moderately sized bits. Almost there.</p><p>"Captain? You'll probably be able to move soon."</p><p>There was no response.</p><p>"Captain Rogers?" Peter asked again and took a glance at his team leader. It was hard to tell with the grime and dust that covered both of them, but the soldier looked deathly pale. And his eyes were closed.</p><p>"No, no, no! We're almost there. You can't give up now!" Peter despaired and shook the man's shoulder. To make things worse, the place rumbled again, and this time it didn't stop immediately.</p><p>Peter stopped attempting to rouse the soldier and instead increased his pace at chucking the rubble away. He could finally see the blue of the Captain's uniform, dirty and ripped in places.</p><p>He almost had a heart attack when the remaining pieces shuffled, followed by a lengthy cough.</p><p>"I'm a-awake," Mr. Rogers rasped and tried to rise to his knees before he collapsed again, scattering the remaining pieces holding him down. He was free, he could move, he was awake, and Peter almost fainted from relief. The building stilled and the walls held.</p><p>He helped the Captain crawl further away from what would have been his grave, dragging him by the arms. The Captain waved him away then, and Peter was confused until the soldier propped himself up on his elbows and heaved. Peter remained supporting Mr. Rogers around the torso as he vomited all over the floor. Peter tried very hard to ignore the blood red coloration of the waste. When the soldier was done, Peter pulled him away from that mess and settled him down at the foot of a debris waterfall.</p><p>"That's better," the Captain whispered and rubbed his mouth with his sleeve. He seemed much more coherent than earlier. The serum was probably starting to kick in. He unbuckled his helmet and discarded it, revealing a bloody mess of his hair.</p><p>"Thank you. For saving me."</p><p>Peter was at a loss of words. Now that they were out of imminent-imminent danger, he could feel every bump and bruise on his skin. He and Aunt May would have a long, long talk, one that Peter wasn't looking forward to.</p><p>"You saved me too," he blurted out.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You gave me your shield. It protected me…" in fact, Peter doubled back and brought the shield along, but Captain Rogers didn't take it.</p><p>"Of course, Queens. And I'd do it again. You're my teammate. We look out for each other," he said and wrapped Peter's fingers around the edge of the shield.</p><p>"Which is why I'm repaying the favour," Peter stated and only then realised he was left with the shield in his hands.</p><p>"Uhh. You want me to take it?"</p><p>"For now. I'm… kind of useless right now."</p><p>Peter let out a hysterical laugh.</p><p>"I'm not blaming you, sir," he said as he adjusted the straps of the shield and slung the disc over his shoulder like a handbag.</p><p>"Can you get up? I… I think we should get moving. The exit is blocked but it's our best chance to get rescued, or you know, rescue ourselves. And, uh, the place could collapse any minute now."</p><p>He was actually surprised at how long the ceiling had endured. He'd have to convince Mr. Stark to find the engineers responsible and hire them.</p><p>Mr. Rogers pushed himself up, but slumped right back down with a hiss of pain.</p><p>"I think… I think both of my legs are broken. Some ribs, too. I'm not walking out of here."</p><p>"Not an issue."</p><p>"I'm sorry?" he asked in surprise. Peter grinned and rolled his shoulders to ease them up.</p><p>"You do know spiders can lift up to 170 times their weight, right? I don't think I'm quite there yet, but I'm uh, pretty strong. Carrying you would be like… like carrying a… hay bale?"</p><p>Captain America laughed. <em> He genuinely laughed. </em></p><p>"Hay bale. You're a NYC kid and the best you can come up with is hay bale."</p><p>"I'm under a lot of stress right now, okay? Here, put your arm around my neck."</p><p>Peter bent down and slipped his arms below the Captain's back and the crook of his knees for a bridal style. Ideally, he'd do Fireman's carry, but the height of the ceiling simply would not allow that. Mr. Rogers was probably right about the legs, one of them was at an awkward angle and the other had bloodied the Captain's entire left pant leg. Peter hoped he wouldn't jostle him too much. </p><p>If he had caused Mr. Rogers any further discomfort, the soldier didn't show it, even as he put his left arm around Peter's neck. He was a big man, but Peter was pretty sure he could pull this off. Hopefully. </p><p>The Captain raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Peter sharply exhaled before straightening up (as much as the slanted ceiling allowed him) and lifting the soldier up. The way Mr. Rogers' face turned from questioning to confused to straight up shocked would be incredibly hilarious in any other circumstances. Scratch that, it was hilarious either way and Peter would savour this moment forever.</p><p>"Woah. This… this is new to me," the Captain struggled to find words as Peter hefted him up to get a better grip.</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"I haven't… I haven't been carried around like this since 1939. Back when I was a little brat, as you know," the Captain seemed completely dazed, and this time it had nothing to do with the possible concussion.</p><p>"Does no one ever pick you up these days?" Peter questioned as he carefully made his way through the rubble and to the far side of the corridor.</p><p>"Not like this," the Captain replied, "Iron Man carries me by the waist sometimes." He paused to think. "Thor, too. Okay, especially Thor."</p><p>Peter pictured Thor or Iron Man slumping a protesting Captain America over their back like a sack of potatoes and smirked.</p><p>"Uh-huh. Everyone else too feeble?"</p><p>"Too little."</p><p>Pleasant silence settled between them and the whole tedious journey to the other side went surprisingly smoothly. A couple times, Peter had to set the soldier down and drag him across piles of debris, probably aggravating his injuries, but it was the only way.</p><p>Bit by bit, one wretched pile after another, they made it.</p><p>And just in time too, because that was the moment the ceiling had had enough and collapsed in multiple places in a chain reaction. It stopped dropping about ten feet away from them, and Peter's heart was all the way in his throat even as he raised the shield to protect both of them.</p><p>He was panting heavily, convincing himself that it was fine. It was fine. He was lucky that he didn't get buried earlier and it wouldn't happen again. Not again.</p><p>Peter felt a gentle touch on his arm and flinched before leaning into the contact. He put the shield back down and sat down, back against the pile blocking their exit.</p><p>"It's gonna be okay," Captain America said as he rubbed Peter's shoulder from his slumped position on the ground. </p><p>"I- I'm fine," Peter said, but he wasn't. In fact, he was overwhelmed and all his adrenaline was finally draining out. Tears were threatening to pool in his eyes and he did his best to not let them spill. He sniffed and dabbed at his eyes, which proved to be ineffective because of his mask.</p><p>"You can take it off, you know," Mr. Rogers said softly. "I won't look. You have my word."</p><p>He couldn't find it within himself to argue.</p><p>"Thank you," he almost whispered and with trembling fingers, clawed at the base of his mask. It was sticking to his skin with sweat and it took some effort to take it off. But once it was gone, Peter could feel like he could breathe again. Cold air hit his face and it almost felt like freedom.</p><p>He glanced at Captain Rogers, and true to his word, his eyes were averted to the ground.</p><p>"My name is Peter," he heard himself saying as he leaned against the rubble even when it dug uncomfortably into his back.</p><p>"It's nice to meet you, Peter."</p><p>He took deep breaths. The elevated heartbeat of both superheroes was the only sound to be heard.</p><p>"Don't tell the others?" Peter asked after a while, having gathered some of his strength back.</p><p>"Wouldn't dream of it."</p><p>"I hope Mr. Stark doesn't tell Aunt May either," Peter mumbled, and vaguely gestured at the ruined building.</p><p>"Does she know about you being Spider-Man?" Mr. Rogers asked and Peter internally cursed when he realised he slipped up. Well the damage was done now. And it wasn't a travesty that Captain America knew that he, a teen, had an aunt.</p><p>"She's aware," Peter told him, "doesn't mean she's that happy about it… But it turned out a lot better than I expected. She's even on board with it, I guess…"</p><p>"She's worried about you."</p><p>"Yeah…"</p><p>The Captain took a deep breath.</p><p>"As someone who doesn't do too well with keeping secrets from someone you care about - don't. Chances are you'll just end up hurting them more than the truth would."</p><p>Peter clenched his jaw at those words, but he had to admit that to tell the truth would be to do the responsible thing. The right thing. Lying to Aunt May never felt right. One burden replaced another, but at least he was honest with her now.</p><p>He looked at the Spider-Man mask clutched in his hands. It was dirty and sweaty, but the white eyes of it shone through Peter's soul.</p><p>He was Spider-Man. That was something he had come to terms with. And that meant he would have to take responsibility.</p><p>He'd cross that bridge when he got there, but he'd take May's anger and tears over her hurt and disappointment. </p><p>For now… he'd have to step up and finish what he and Cap started.</p><p>With a deep breath, he pulled the mask over his messy head of brown curls and down to his face, sweat and grime and all.</p><p>"Peter? What are you doing?" Cap asked, clutching at his ribs.</p><p>"Getting us out of here," Peter said, steeling his words with determination. He got to his shaky feet and climbed the hill of debris. The Captain didn't protest, so Peter clawed at the pieces and forced his way up in an uphill battle. He somehow managed to get to the top even with pieces of concrete rolling underneath his feet. </p><p>At the very peak, he dug his hand into the mess and pulled it down and behind himself. More rubble settled in its place, so he did it again. And again. Until his glove-clad fingers hurt with the overuse. Even as more sweat pooled on his brow below the mask.</p><p>"You can do it," came Mr. Rogers' tired voice from the bottom, still somehow conveying hope.</p><p>
  <em>Hope.</em>
</p><p>Hope was when Peter shovelled another handful and this time he was blinded by a beam of sunlight that suddenly streamed into the room.</p><p>"Captain, sir! I did it! I did it!"</p><p>He gasped in surprise and relief and carefully extended the edges of the hole. Once it was big enough, he stuck his hand right through.</p><p>And he yelled.</p><p>
  <em> "We're over here! It's Spider-Man and Cap! Help! We're here!" </em>
</p><p>He didn't stop shouting until he heard the familiar sound of whirring repulsors and a blue light replaced the sun beams.</p><p>Only then did he allow himself to collapse onto his belly and let his tears fall.</p><p>
  <em> They made it. They survived. They were alive. </em>
</p><p>Everything would be okay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Story notes: Daniel "Danny" Leighton aka Cutthroat is a minor marvel villain. He has faced off against both Spidey and Cap, and he became a part of Red Skull's Skeleton Crew. His sister, Rachel Leighton, is also known as the Serpent Society villain Diamondback (and one of Steve's love interests over the years).</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!</p><p>Kudos and comments are both greatly appreciated &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Building Back Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What comes after.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Upon getting rescued, Steve had passed out of relief and pain. They were safe. More importantly, Peter was safe, and that was enough for him to finally give in to his fatigue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke up to a white light lurking above, and the sharp herbal scent of medicine. Ever since his enhancements, his sense of smell had increased significantly. That meant certain smells became more enticing, but it made others more unbearable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the sterile, clean smell that could only mean that he was in a hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hated hospitals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But right after his sight and smell, Steve's hearing came back to him, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"...I come up hard, but that's OK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Cause Trouble Man don't get in my way…"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve's dry lips tugged up into a slight smile and he twisted his neck to the side to see Sam sitting on a chair next to his bed, playing the song on his phone. The scene in front of him, combined with Marvin Gaye, was almost painfully familiar, but it also warmed Steve's heart and that made up for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to get Sam's attention, a smirk already forming, but that was the moment Sam's eyes flitted up and met Steve's completely by accident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're awake!" Sam exclaimed and set his phone down, Troubleman continuing to play in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was about to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>it,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Steve complained weakly, and judging by Sam's own shit-eating grin, he knew exactly what he meant by </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh-hoh, not this time. In fact, </span>
  <em>
    <span>on your right,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Sam laughed and gently tapped Steve's right shoulder. Steve just rolled his eyes and took in the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's kind of weird when </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> do it, but I like it," Steve said happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, you do," Sam said as he gripped his shoulder. Then his face grew a bit more serious. He did that thing where his eyebrows furrowed and his lips slightly parted, revealing his tooth gap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did Leighton get away?" Steve immediately asked, picking up at Sam's demeanour, but his friend just sighed and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, no, we got him. Shield's got him locked up along with most of his crew. They won't be bothering anyone for a long time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam still wasn't smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a relief, then," Steve said, but his brows furrowed. If they had succeeded at their mission, then what…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, this is about you, not the arms dealers," Sam added, pointing at his own tired frown. As if he knew exactly what Steve was thinking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Steve asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> feeling? When they wheeled you in, you were immediately off to surgery," Sam said instead of answering and Steve winced at his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I feel… quite normal, to be honest. They operated on me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Your legs were in a pretty bad way. The bones had already started healing all wrong, so the doctors had to re-break them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Damn," Steve huffed. He didn't remember any of that, and he was glad he didn't. It had been a while since Shield had come up with sedatives that could knock him out, and Steve was grateful - before that, no pain killers were effective enough and surgeries were a literal agony for the super soldier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You had a concussion and some broken ribs, but otherwise? Nothing too serious. You're gonna be okay," Sam said with a strained voice. The almost invisible anger that slightly laced his words completely dissipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sam…" Steve trailed off, finally getting the hint and finding his hand with his own. He pulled himself up to a seated position, satisfied with the blissful absence of pain in his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll always spring back. You don't have to worry about-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What if one day, you don't?" Sam interrupted suddenly, his dark, piercing gaze cutting through Steve's reassurance like butter. "Have you thought about that before jumping into action, into danger? Do you think at all? If it wasn't for Spider-Man you could be… you'd be…" Sam's raised voice died down, and Steve clutched his trembling hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey now, Sam. You said it yourself, I'll be okay," he said as he soothingly rubbed Sam's hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Barely. One of your ribs was this close-" Sam motioned with his fingers almost touching, "to puncturing your lung. What then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then I'd be probably dead," Steve admitted, "but I'm not. I'm sorry for making you worried…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Worried? Worried?! When the explosion went off, it levelled the entire building," Sam articulated angrily. "We all stopped what we were doing, to- to try, if not anything else, to try to find you two. And… and… as I was doing it, digging through the ruins, I couldn't chase away the thought that I'd… find you too late."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam's throat was all closed up, based on the way he was choking on the words, and Steve felt the deep sting of guilt. Lord give him anger, give him disappointment, he could handle that, but not sadness. Not Sam being hurt on his behalf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"C'mere," Steve drew a breath and unstuck himself from the pillow behind his back. He first awkwardly took hold of Sam's broad shoulders, then pulled him closer to himself, wrapping his arms around Sam's middle and gently squeezing until Sam returned the embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was just a stupid low threat level mission and I thought… I thought I would lose you </span>
  <em>
    <span>too,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest was left unsaid but with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Steve knew exactly what Sam was talking about. Or rather, who. Riley. His partner who had passed away in the line of duty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sam…I'm here and not going anywhere, alright? I'm sorry," Steve said as they hugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I made a decision and it was a bad one. It was my call and I messed it all up. I put not only myself, but God forbid, another teammate in danger. And I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't do that again…" Sam mumbled into Steve's shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will try not to. You know how it is, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah…" Sam admitted, carefully shifting around Steve's healing ribs, "This job, it's… when we go out there, we accept the dangers. We have to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span> you I'll stay safe," Steve reasoned, "but I'll try to be more careful. What happened today must not repeat."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yesterday, actually," Sam corrected gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've been holed up here for the entire night?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The night </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the morning." Sam glanced at his phone and turned the screen back on. It was 11am, and the song that now came up on shuffle was Crazy In Love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The doctors agreed to keep you under for a little while longer so that you wouldn't be hurting when you woke up. And you slept through the rest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. How does it feel to sleep for twelve hours for the first time in ages?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like I've been reset," Steve admitted, then smiled. "Don't call me out like that." He couldn't remember when was the last time he got eight hours of sleep, let alone twelve. He felt strangely refreshed and energized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How's Spider-Man?" he asked suddenly, remembering that Peter had gone through that ordeal with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, he's fine. Bruises and strained muscles were the worst of it, thankfully."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad to hear that," Steve huffed, relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He saved your ass, that kid," Sam told him. "He even got the USB full of so much dirt on Leighton that he'll be locked up for like, twenty years."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kid did great out there," Steve admitted with a smile. "Saved both of our lives. One day, he'll be the best of us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No doubts about that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, the door creaked open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Speak of the devil," Sam said when a head covered with the red mask of Spider-Man peeked inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, hello Mr. Wilson," Peter said and rubbed the back of his head. He was awkwardly hanging in the doorway, hand on the handle, as if ready to slam the door and leave if need be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on in, P- Spider-Man," Steve told the boy, catching himself in time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I'll head out then," Sam said and drummed his fingers on the bedside table, gathered his phone, and hurriedly stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No one's throwing you out, Sam," Steve voiced, but Sam just brightly smiled at him from across the room. Peter had wordlessly slinked inside, hugging his chest with his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I was about to grab a snack anyway," Sam shrugged. "You guys want anything?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your cookies," Steve replied automatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's Mama's recipe," Sam noted with a quirked eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No wonder everything you cook is so divine, then," Steve mused out loud. "If you somehow haven't told her yet, tell Mama Wilson that I really admire her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're such a sap," Sam rolled his eyes but still nodded with a smile. He reached for the handle of the dull hospital door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll bring you something when I come back. Don't go anywhere, alright? We convinced the doctors they wouldn't need to bolt you down to the bed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Duly noted," Steve laughed and watched as Sam left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have been longingly staring, because an unsure "uhm" sounded from the chair beside his bed. Startled, Steve remembered that he wasn't alone in the room. He found himself blushing furiously as he snapped his gaze to Peter, who somehow managed to get seated cross legged on the rickety chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I, um, thought I'd sit down. I can get up though if you don't want-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sit wherever you like," Steve shrugged, regaining his composure. He studied the teenager anxiously grabbing at the hem of his lanky T-shirt and pulling on a loose strand. The mask of Spider-Man sat heavy on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can take off the mask, you know," Steve told him and propped himself up. "There are no cameras here. And even if there were, Tony would just wipe the footage. I won't look."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter stopped fidgeting and sagged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Actually, I figured this might be the time to get… more comfortable around you guys? One at the time. This-" he pointed at his masked face. "It's a habit," he settled on that and with twitchy fingers, he pulled the mask up and over his face, leaving brown hair in a messy disarray. Steve resisted the urge to reach out and smooth it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I um, came to see how you're doing, Mr. Rogers," Peter said, his voice becoming steadier. The boy himself looked pretty much unscathed. It's been a while, and his healing factor must have taken care of most of his injuries. Still, there was a blue bandaid plastered across his nose, even if it wasn't likely to be covering any cut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Been better," Steve admitted, recalling all the other times he had been beaten to hell, and the times he hadn't. "But I'm healing. All thanks to you, pal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter blushed and squeezed the mask in his hands. "It was… it was all I could do," he said softly, clearly flustered and not meeting Steve's eyes. Peter's own eyes were warm and brown, cast to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, look at me, Peter," Steve said and turned around a little to face the teen. Using his real name seemed to do the trick, because soon Peter's doe eyes bore into Steve's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What you did out there was stupid," he began, and raised his index finger when he saw Peter deflate, "but also incredibly brave and courageous. You could have left like I ordered you to, like common sense dictated, but you didn't. You stayed and saved my life. So thank you, Peter. You acted like a true soldier would and I… I'm proud of you," he added that last bit after the thought suddenly crossed his mind and he couldn't dismiss it. Because it felt right and true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter made a noise akin to a balloon releasing its air and his hands shot up to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my gosh," he whispered, peeling his fingers away to reveal his flaring cheeks. The crimson shade greatly contrasted with the blue bandaid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you so much, Mr. Rogers. I really don't know what to say. You're welcome? Is that appropriate?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not a special occasion. Dare I say, the first of many. You are a remarkable hero, Peter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was suddenly very interested in the shoelaces of his worn sneakers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," he said softly. It was barely audible but Steve's enhanced hearing picked up on it with ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How have you been?" he asked instead, and instinctively searched Peter for injuries, even if he knew that they'd be long gone by now. "Forgive me for not remembering, but… I kind of passed out. Sam said you made it out alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah!" Peter perked up and nodded along. "I only had a couple of bruises and scrapes. They're gone now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only the blue band aid still plastered across his nose was the sole reminder that something had happened. And yet...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad. Is... everything alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to catch him by surprise, even if he tried to hide it, initially.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah! Yeah it…" Peter bit at his lower lip and crumpled the mask still in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve waited. In the end, Peter sighed, and set the mask down on the bedside table. No more avoiding, of dodging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No it's not. It really isn't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed almost scared to admit it. Steve tried not to scrunch up his eyebrows with worry, but it was hard to do so, and he couldn't be sure if he quite managed to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How come?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did a lot of thinking. I told Aunt May. Everything. The scope of the situation, the danger I was in…" Peter trailed off, the words pouring from him now that he got started. With nothing in his hands to play with, he opted to nervously tap his fingers against the side of the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She freaked out and got really upset, you know? And it felt horrible, knowing that she's hurting because of me. She's all I have. I want to fix it but I don't know how. I don't want to stop being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man!" Peter declared, waving his arms around and rocking the chair back and forth. It was a minor miracle it didn't topple over and give Peter a concussion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I don't want to worry Aunt May either… She deserves better than that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grew quiet after that, setting his hands in his lap. Sitting like that, cross legged on a chair too big and wide for him, and dressed in that lanky t-shirt and sweatpants he looked… young. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> young. The realisation was quite stark - when he wore the mask of Spider-Man, it was easy to forget just how young he really was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You hold a huge responsibility, Peter. But you're also a kid," Steve said carefully, fully expecting the reaction he got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm a </span>
  <em>
    <span>teenager-</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Still a kid," Steve interrupted when Peter took offence. "Wanda's a kid too. God, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a kid when I joined the army."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That one was tough to admit. With all the horrors that came with war, it was easier to write off his age at the time as a 'young adult'. It seemed so long ago - it was some odd seventy years for the majority of the world - but some things would always remain fresh in his mind. The memories that plagued him some nights. Things no one should ever experience, let alone someone as young as he had been back then. God knows there had been plenty of guys even </span>
  <em>
    <span>younger</span>
  </em>
  <span> than he had been. And Peter, still in high-school… He had already seen too much of the rot that the world was riddled with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The point is," Steve said after all his swirling thoughts settled, "you can cut yourself some slack. Lean back for a while and take it easy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Evil doesn't sleep," Peter said warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's what we're here for. We're a team, the Avengers."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah! And I'm your teammate, aren't I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course you are. But even teammates can sit on the bench every once in a while. It's like sports. We've got your back, Peter, and we know you've got ours. But it's okay. Trust me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter's eyes widened in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'd… you'd excuse me if I took a break from Avenging?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course! In fact, it's an order," Steve amended, recalling the conversation they had before entering the rigged building. "Remember what I said before it all went to hell? That if anything went wrong, I'd bench you for a month. Well, it went as wrong as it possibly could have, so that still sticks. Enjoy your vacation."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not sure if I should be glad or offended right now…" Peter huffed out, a small grin breaking out on his face. "Guess I deserve that, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the boy shot upright, as if he remembered something important. "Wait, friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man is still a go, right? You can't ground me from that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shook his head. "I think that's for your Aunt to decide."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter leaned back against the chair, making it dangerously incline backwards, but he was smiling now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right. I'll talk to her. Thank you so much, Mr. Rogers."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're welcome. And please, drop the formalities," Steve requested with a smile of his own. "That makes me sound </span>
  <em>
    <span>so old</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As if the old jokes weren't enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter chuckled and laid his hands in his lap. He wasn't fidgeting anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, calling you Steve feels wrong. Even thinking about calling you Steve feels wrong."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Call me Brooklyn?" Steve offered instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...Right. I can do that," Peter replied. "Guess I'll be Queens then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Only if you want. You can be Peter, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I be both?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure thing, Queens."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you for everything, Mr.- Brooklyn. The advice, and all. I think I'll be going now. It was nice talking to you," Peter said, sticking his hand in his pocket. He paused for a moment, then pulled out his beat up phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Actually, we could… start… texting, if you want?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That took Steve by surprise. He hadn't really used his phone all that much, even if Tony did set up social media accounts for him. He only really texted with his team, which made sense, in a way. Adding Peter to that group seemed like the next logical step anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd be happy to. Send me a friend request," he managed, grabbing his own phone and exchanging the information with Peter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Done," Peter said after his fingers moved across the screen faster than humanly possible. Steve did receive the notification, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Got it. So this is a goodbye for now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Guess so. We'll keep in touch," Peter said excitedly, before blurting out: "Do you like dogs?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, a lot. Why?" Steve replied immediately, causing Peter to perk up in interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So do I! I'll send you all the dog pictures I can! Videos, too. If you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course. I'd love that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Great! I should really get going now though," Peter exclaimed and hurriedly got up, no longer in danger of plopping to the ground unexpectedly, which reduced Steve's stress level by like 20%. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aunt May made it pretty clear that we need to have another talk. At least now I'll know what to say."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was at the door now, hand on the handle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Glad to help. And uh, Peter? Your mask."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It laid abandoned on the bedside table. Peter soundlessly gasped and got a little red around the ear tips. He rushed back to the bed, almost tripping over the cursed chair, and snatched up the mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, right! Thanks again, really. Bye, Brooklyn," he said as he pulled the mask back over his face and opened the door to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bye, Queens."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave Steve one last glance, even a little wave, and then he was off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sunk back into his pillow with a content sigh. If he wasn't sure before, he was convinced now - the kid was alright. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, that was it, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading! There will be a little bonus chapter coming up too. As a treat.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading, and all the kudos, bookmarks, and comments. They're all greatly appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Loose bricks (Bonus chapter)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little something to wrap it up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm really sorry it took me so long to post this, especially since it has been finished for a while now... here it is at last! Don't take it too seriously :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Later that day, still on bedrest much to Steve's annoyance, his phone pinged. He set aside the book Wanda had brought him and picked up the phone from the bedside counter instead. Upon unlocking the screen, he was greeted by his wallpaper, a selfie the team had taken not too long ago. It had everyone in it, smiling or giving bunny ears (in Clint's case). Steve smiled at the picture and swiped to open the texting app, seeing a new incoming text from 'Queens'. He tapped to open it. It read:</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Queens:</strong> <em>almost forgot. so you and Mr. Wilson, huh?</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Complete with a smug-looking smiley face emotion (or whatever they were called) with raised eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve felt himself flush once again. He did his best to not make any typos with his response, even though the tiny keyboard on his touchscreen didn't make it any easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Brooklyn:</strong> <em>Is it that obvious? Yes, I think I like him. Don't tell anyone, especially not Sam, please. Or Tony. -Steve</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>He added a laughing smiley face that had a bead of sweat going down its forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few seconds later, three dots appeared, signifying that Peter was typing. The notification went off in a few moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Queens:</strong> <em>dw your secret's safe with me… *winking face* i think they know btw. everyone will notice soon enough i think ahdjsjs. also you don't need to sign your texts haha??</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve thought for a second, deciphering the slang and abbreviations, before typing away:</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Brooklyn:</strong> <em>Thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it. I hope you're wrong about everyone taking notice, though. It's hard enough dealing with it without them trying to help or sabotage this (or both). As for signing texts, well. Don't tell them this either, but I know that it drives everyone up the wall. I want to have some fun from time to time, too. -Steve</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three dots, ping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>Queens:</strong> <em>just warning you oof. and wow that's so devious Brooklyn omg… i support it tho</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve grinned when he found an emoji (that's what they were called!) that looked like a little devil with horns.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>Queens: </strong>
  <em>
    <span>agshhss i cant believe this is happening</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Brooklyn:</strong>
  <em>
    <span> It's real, let me assure you. Still a bit rusty with technology but old habits die hard. I've always been on the naughty side. -Steve</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Queens: </strong>
  <em>
    <span>you??? captain america the pinnacle of justice and honor?? no way i refuse</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span><strong>Brooklyn:</strong></span> <em><span>Embrace the truth. The history books are inaccurate. -Steve</span></em></p><p>
  <strong>Queens: </strong>
  <em>
    <span>proof or it didn't happen</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <strong>Brooklyn:</strong>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span> It's not exactly easy to get hold of my old records - all of that was classified. But I can tell you 100% authentic stories and it's up to you whether you believe them or not. Once I get out of here, that is. -Steve</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Queens: </strong>
  <em>
    <span>aaa really?? can't wait to hear them omg this is gonna be so much fun</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Brooklyn: </strong>
  <em>
    <span>No doubts about that. -Steve</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>THE END</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone for kudos, comments, and bookmarks. They're greatly appreciated &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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